A GOAT EPISODE.
Eunice sat curled up in a little bunch on the floor. Her forehead was
very much knit, and her eyes were very much screwed up. She was fussing
busily with a piece of red ribbon and a red Tam o’Shanter.
“What are you doing, Eunice?” asked Marjorie, looking in, in passing the
door.
“I’m fixing my Tam,” Eunice replied, cocking her head critically on one
side, and surveying the cap as she held it up on her fist. “It doesn’t
fit my head very well, and I thought I’d poke it up on one side with a
red ribbon bow and this red quill, like May Chester’s.”
“I don’t think Eunice has a very _Tammy_ head,” struck in Cricket, from
the window-seat. “Her Tam never stays on a minute; her hair’s so
slippery. Frousy hair like mine has _one_ advantage.”
Cricket’s curly topknot kept her scarlet skating-cap always in the right
place, but Eunice’s satin-smooth hair did not afford a good foundation
for her hats.
“I _can’t_ get it right, though,” said Eunice, despairingly. She was hot
and tired, and if the truth must be told, a little cross. “This ribbon
won’t go in the right place, somehow.”
“I tried to make a rosette, but it wouldn’t _rosettate_,” said Cricket,
putting down her book and coming forward to help look on. “Let Marjorie
do it, Eunice. It looks so un-stylish the way you have it.”
“No, I don’t want to,” said Eunice, holding on to her cap. “I want to do
it myself. Marjorie doesn’t know what I want.”
“Yes, I do, child,” said Marjorie, trying to take the ribbon. “I can do
it in a moment. Let me have it.”
“No, I won’t,” said Eunice, decidedly. “I can do it myself.”
“But why won’t you let me?” urged Marjorie.
“I haven’t any reason. I just want to _won’t_,” answered Eunice, half
laughing. “There, go away, Marjorie. I’m so cross that I want to bite
nails.”
Eunice was always an independent little body, so Marjorie, with a pat on
her head, left her struggling with the Tam. Cricket went back to her
book, and Eunice worked on for ten minutes in silence.
“There!” she said at last, in a tone of triumph, holding up her cap on
her hand. “It’s done. That looks all right, too, doesn’t it, when I put
it on? You see, when it’s on crooked, then it’s straight. Do you see
that quirk? That’s very stylish,” and Eunice paraded up and down before
the glass.
“_Isn’t_ it quirky?” said Cricket, admiringly. “Let’s go down to the
library now for mamma. You know she wanted us to go before this
afternoon with those books. You can wear your cap.”
“Exactly what I meant to do, Miss Scricket. Get the books and come on.”
It was Saturday morning. The night before had been rainy, but it had
cleared off bright and very cold, leaving all the sidewalks covered with
a glare of ice. Ashes and sand were liberally sprinkled, but walking
was, nevertheless, a matter needing some care.
The girls went carefully down the front steps, which were somewhat
slippery, although they had already been scraped.
“And there comes Johnnie-goat, prancing along as if he were on his
native rocks,” said Eunice, looking personally injured, as the big,
white goat came sauntering abstractedly down the street, in the
distance.
“I don’t think he looks as goatified as usual, though,” said Cricket,
glancing over her shoulder. “Poor old Johnnie! I haven’t seen him for
ages. Let’s get another picture of him, sometime, Eunice.”
The camera had by no means been forgotten all winter. Many pictures had
been taken, although the girls had never developed any more by
themselves. They had taken many pretty views of different things. They
had the twins in nearly every possible attitude, and numberless pictures
of each other. Only the out-door views were much of a success, though,
and they were looking forward with great anticipation to Kayuna, next
summer, where they meant to photograph every stick and stone.
Eunice and Cricket walked along rather slowly, swinging hands. Each had
a library book under the outside arm. Cricket was describing very
vividly something she had seen on the street, the day before.
“It was the _funniest_ thing! Those two ladies, all dressed to kill,
came flying out of the house and down the steps, signalling to the
street-car to stop; and just at the same time a cart was going by, with
some long planks on it that waved way out behind. And the lady was
looking so hard at the car that she never noticed the planks out behind,
and as soon as the cart itself was past her, she rushed for the car, and
then she struck the planks just _plump_, and went right over them, and
hung there. Her head and arms were waving on one side—just _waving_—and
her legs on the other, and she hung over it; and the cart man didn’t
know it, and just went on serenely. I felt _awfully_ sorry for her, but
oh, she looked so funny! just like a turtle.”
“Didn’t she hurt herself dreadfully?” asked Eunice, with interest.
“I don’t know. Well, the car stopped, and then it went on, for I suppose
the conductor saw that the lady couldn’t get unhitched from the cart
right off, and the cart trundled on, and the other lady ran after it,
calling the man to stop, and _he_ thought they were calling to the car
all the time, and he waved too, and called out, ‘Hi, there! lady wants
yer to stop!’ and the conductor called back, ‘Stop yourself, you old
lummox, and let off your passenger,’ and all this time the poor lady
just sprawled over those planks. I was so sorry for her! but the sorrier
I got, the more I laughed, but I ran after the cart, too, and called it
to stop, and some small boys ran after it, and called to the man, too,
and the other lady kept calling—”
But just here, without a word of warning, Cricket suddenly went down
with a thump on her knees, to her intense surprise. It was not icy just
there, and there was no apparent reason for Cricket’s sudden humility.
“Upon my word, wasn’t that queer?” she said, getting up slowly, and
ruefully rubbing her knees.
Eunice had gone off into fits of laughter, after a glance behind her.
“I never saw anything funnier,” she gasped. “Talk of your lady! she
isn’t a circumstance to you. Oh, _dear_!” and Eunice fairly doubled up.
“What _could_ have been the matter? I went down as quick as a wink, and
it isn’t icy here, either,” said bewildered Cricket. “Somehow my knees
just went forward. I should think they had hinges on them. I just—”
[Illustration: A SUDDEN DOWNFALL.]
And here she straightway went down on her knees again. Eunice leaned
against a lamppost, breathless with laughing.
“Oh, oh! don’t you see? It’s only—_oh_, dear! my sides ache so! it’s—”
and Eunice went off again into a peal of laughter.
Cricket was up by this time, more puzzled than ever.
“Do you suppose I’ve got anything the matter with me? I declare my knees
feel cracked. Do you suppose I’ve got to go all the way to the library
bumping along on my knees? Something seemed to _whang_ into my back
knees, and I—oh, _Johnnie-goat_! was it you? Eunice, was it
Johnnie-goat?”
Eunice nodded weakly. She had no breath left for words. Johnnie-goat
stood placidly behind Cricket, wagging his long beard socially, and
making little corner-wise motions of his solemn head, as he always did
when he was playfully inclined.
“He just walked right up and bunted you under the knees, and down you
went. I believe he did it for a joke,” gasped Eunice. “See! he doesn’t
seem angry a bit.”
“_He_ doesn’t seem angry?” asked Cricket, somewhat indignantly. “I
should say he’d better not. I don’t know what should have spoiled _his_
temper. _I’m_ the one to be angry, I should say. You wretched old
Johnnie-goat! breaking my knee-pans, and making everybody laugh at
me,—only there isn’t anybody around.”
“Yes, there are three children up in that window, across the street,”
said Eunice. “They’re laughing as if they’d kill themselves.”
“I’m glad there’s something to amuse them,” said Cricket, cheerfully.
“Oh, Eunice! that’s the very house my lady came out of yesterday! Well,
I laughed at her, and those children are welcome to laugh at me. Tell me
how he did it.”
“Just as I told you,” said Eunice, breaking out into a peal of laughter
again, as they walked along. “He simply came up and bunted you under the
knees, and the first thing I knew, you were on the ground, and then he
did it again.”
“Go home, Johnnie-goat,” said Cricket, turning and shaking her finger
reproachfully at the goat, who was stalking solemnly on behind, trailing
his bit of rope, which, as usual, he had eaten through, in order to make
his escape. “You’ve distinguished yourself enough for to-day.”
“If we wanted to, I could call a policeman and have you arrested,” added
Eunice.
“I’m ashamed of you, Johnnie-goat, when we’ve always been such friends,”
went on Cricket, “and I’ve scratched your head between your horns lots
of times, where you can’t reach it yourself. Go straight home and think
how sorry you are, and maybe I’ll forgive you,—only you’ll have to
behave yourself pretty well, else you won’t _stay_ forgiven.”
Johnnie-goat stood still and meditated a moment. Then, with the air of
one who is somewhat bored by circumstances, he turned and wandered
slowly back, with a meditative cock to his short tail.
“He always means mischief when he looks mildly and meekly playful like
that,” Cricket said, turning to watch him, and to guard against another
attack in her rear.
“Cricket, where is your library book?” asked Eunice, presently.
“I don’t know,” said Cricket, stopping short. “Oh, that Johnnie-goat! I
dropped it when he butted me, I suppose. We’ll have to go back. It was
just around the corner. I hope nobody has picked it up.”
The children turned and quickened their steps. As they went around the
corner they saw a knot of little gamins collected further down the
street, an evidently excited crowd, but the book lay where Cricket had
dropped it a few minutes before.
“What are these boys doing?” asked Cricket, curiously. “I wonder if
anything has happened. Just hear them hoot!”
“They’re up to some mischief, probably,” said Eunice. “Come on,
Cricket.”
But Cricket lingered, with her head over her shoulder.
“They’re certainly teasing something, Eunice,” she said, in sudden
excitement. “Some animal,—perhaps it is a cat—no, it isn’t—it’s
Johnnie-goat! Those horrid wretches!” as an unmistakable bleat rose long
and loud. “Eunice, I must stop them!”
Bang went the book on the pavement, and off darted Cricket.
“Come back, Cricket! Don’t go there,” called Eunice, urgently. “They
might hurt you. You can’t stop them. _Cricket!_”
But she called to deaf ears, for Cricket flew on, and Eunice, with the
instinct never to desert Mr. Micawber, picked up the library book, and
followed in much trepidation.
Cricket dashed into the centre of the group like a small cyclone, and
the little gamins fell back, right and left, in sheer amazement. Her
scarlet Tam was on the back of her head, her curls were rampant with the
wind, and her eyes were blazing with indignation like two stars.
Poor Johnnie-goat was indeed in trouble. A tin can dangled from his
short tail, and on his horns were two similar ornaments, which bumped
and clattered as he made ineffective plunges at his enemies. Besides
these, stout strings were tied to each horn, so that his head could be
jerked this way and that, as he jumped about, half frantic with rage and
terror. One of the boys prodded him with a sharp stick.
“You shameful wretches!” rang out Cricket’s clear tones. “I wish some
big giant would come and torment _you_, so! How dare you!” she snatched
the strings from the boy’s hands, and held them firmly in her own strong
little fingers.
“Where is your knife?” she said, imperiously, to the biggest boy.
He took it from his pocket and awkwardly held it out to her.
“No, open it, and cut those cans off. _You_, boy, hold his head still.
_Gently_, mind. Poor Johnnie-goat!” With one hand she grasped a jerking
horn, and with the other she rubbed the sensitive little place on his
head. Johnnie-goat almost instantly stood quiet, with drooped head.
“A fine thing for you great boys to torment a poor, helpless animal,”
Cricket said, scornfully. She flung the tin cans into the street.
“Now, be off with you, every one,” she ordered. “I’ll take Johnnie-goat
home. _Go_, I say,” stamping her foot imperiously, as the boys showed
signs of lingering. They had actually said not a single word, so amazed
were they all at the valiant onslaught of the little maid.
Her finger still pointed unwaveringly down a neighbouring alleyway, and
slowly the boys, one after another, slouched off. Any sign of indecision
on the part of Cricket, and they would have refused to go. But, with her
shoulders well back, and her head erect, she stood steadily pointing
down the alley. She watched them round a corner, and never stirred till
the last one, with many a sheepish glance backward, had disappeared.
“Got my book, Eunice?” said Cricket, briskly. “I’m going to take
Johnnie-goat home myself, and can’t we go to the library round that way?
’Tisn’t much further. Gracious! how hot I am!” and Cricket unbuttoned
her long coat and threw it open. “Do you mind carrying my book for me,
Eunice? I’d better hold Johnnie-goat with both hands. He seems sort of
excited.”